"Are you on the team, Jimmy?"
"O, no. I'm just on the squad doing what they tell me to. I got a chance yesterday afternoon to play tackle, but I'm about as much at home playing up in the line as a tadpole in a haymow. The tackle opposite me played horse with me. And the coach glared at me savagely whenever the play went over me, and that was every time, I guess."
"Didn't he know you were a back?" asked Frank.
"I ventured to tell him that, but he told me in the most courteous fashion to shut up, and I shut."
"Don't you think you have a chance?"
"About as much chance as I have to be president, which, considering that there are somewhere about ten million possible candidates, is a problem that even Lewis could figure."
"Jimmy hasn't got a chance to make the team, Frank. I haven't been here but three weeks, and it's as plain as the nose on your face that if you haven't a Gamma pin on you, you might as well go way back and be comfortably seated. Tom Harding, the captain, is a Gamma, the manager is a Gamma, and I know for a fact that ten out of the eleven are in the same society."
"It's a regular open and shut game," added Jimmy.
"Isn't there another society here?" inquired Frank. "What's the matter with it?"